26 Instances
by LadyEmera1d
Summary: 26 HouseCuddy mini stories from A to Z. UPDATE: New chapter, B for Boys & Girls, added May.06. ...when a boy likes a girl and he's too shy to tell her, he starts pulling her hair and throwing rocks at her...
1. D for Dance

**26 Instances**

By Ladyemera1d

**Summary: **26 HouseCuddy mini-stories from A-Z. Cute, fluffy, lots of snarky banter._  
Should we take a chance and dance the last dance?_

**Disclaimer:** All **HouseMD **characters are properties of Fox even though in my mind, Gregory House will always belong to me. :)**  
**

**Pairing:**** House/Cuddy- **( Wilson might join in the fun later )

**NOTE:** Even though the stories are based on the alphabet, they will not be added in alphabetical order but rather based on my fancies.

**Spoilers**: None.

**  
**

**04. D**ance

**Mood:** Slightly Romantic

**SHE** wore a purple dress, rich in satin from neck to knee. Both the front and back followed a similar 'u' shape cut with the fabric clinging onto her curves for dear life. _She was gorgeous._ And apparently, he was not the only one who thought so as a cluster of alpha males enclosed her in a ring. They were all of the same breed: wealthy and haughty, shamelessly flirting with the Dean of medicine while sipping white merlot with their noses in the air. They were doctors- pediatricians, ophthalmologists, neurologists, cardiologists- some young, some old, but all the same.

**HE** wasn't jealous, slightly irked (maybe), but no, not jealous. In fact, he couldn't help but grin inside, knowing that none of them would ever acquire the secret ingredient that made her tick. He examined her once more, and noticed that her eyes glistened and her body language reciprocated eagerly to the enticements from the bachelors. Finally, he was satisfied.

"House! There you are!" She advanced towards him. "Don't even think about leaving."

He reluctantly turned around. "Oh darn, so close," House muttered.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I only ask you to attend one medical conference a year, and you can't even last more than five minutes?"

"Aha! That is where you're wrong. It is has been," he glanced at his watch, "six minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Gotta go, L Word Marathon calling my name."

Before he was able to take another step, she grabbed his beloved cane, and forcefully dragged him to face the circle of piranhas.

"Everyone, this is the Dr. Gregory House, Princeton's head of the diagnostic department. Sorry, he's a bit shy when it comes to social events (she almost whispered)."

The men snickered.

"So you're the infamous Dr. House," announced the robust one in an Armani tailored pinstripe suit, "Tell us, how many lawsuits have you gotten this month? Don't worry, we won't hold it against your genius reputation." A string of laughter trailed.

House glared at them, and didn't hesitate to defend his ego.

"I've gotten more lawsuits this month than you've ever gotten laid. Guess what? I win." They suddenly grew dead silent.

"Now excuse me, I've got real work to do." He limped away.

Cuddy closed her eyes, too embarrassed to even look at him.

"House! House! Wait...," she called out, chasing after him past the double screen doors. He simply stared at her without revealing any intimation of hurt.

She bit her lips. "I'm sorry those guys are such assholes. Just come back inside."

"Funny," he chuckled sinisterly, "you didn't think so when Mr. Armani had his hands all over you a minute ago."

She swallowed hard, lacking the courage to apologize again. "House, please.." _Please stay with me.  
_

Tension pervaded through the darkened sky with the light melody of Brian McKnight's "Last Dance" whisking out from the ballroom.

_Do we know more than we knew then  
Or do we know less and we just pretend  
Should I ignore my heart and walk away  
Your eyes tell me more than words will ever say_  
**Should we take a chance and dance the last dance...**

He dropped his wooden companion, and slowly placed one hand around her waist and the other groping for her fingers.

"What do you think you're doing?" She jumped back, startled at his touch.

"Geez, why do women want a formal declaration for everything? Fine." House pulled out a cherry lollipop from his blazer's inner pocket and held it out to her. "Dr. Lisa Cuddy, will you dance with me?  
Pwetty _Pleaseee?_" ( House's irresistible puppy dog eyes )**  
**

Cuddy couldn't refrain from giggling out loud.

"What's so amusing?"

"The thought of you dancing," she admitted, guiding his awkward feet to the slow unchained rhythm.

**El Fin. **

( **AN**: Comments/Critiques are very much welcomed. This drabble doesn't really have as much Huddy snark as I had originally hoped, but I didn't want to ruin the romantic mood. Okay, need to go satisfy my House craving now. Stay tuned. More to come )


	2. T for Take my hand

**26 Instances**

By Ladyemera1d

**Summary: **26 ( HouseCuddy ) mini-stories from A-Z. Cute, fluffy, lots of snarky banter.  
_"Shut up and call for help. Get a ladder." Or catch me._**  
**

**Disclaimer:** All **House MD **characters are properties of Fox even though in my mind, House will always belong to me :)**  
**

**Pairing: ****House/Cuddy- **( Wilson might join in the fun later)

**NOTE:** Even though the stories are based on the alphabet, they will not be added in alphabetical order but rather based on my fancies.

**Spoilers**: None.

**20. T**ake my hand…

**Mood:** Cheeky Fun

**"Just take my damn hand, Cuddy."**

**THE** chief of medicine clutched onto bundles of thin, brittle limbs with both hands, peeking down at a displeased House from eight feet up the aged weeping willow. Her stomach gurgled at the fluttering of a butterfly stampede. Her hands trembled as the flaccid timber branches began to swish back and forth with the wintry breeze of December. And yet, this chief of medicine was particularly stubborn, and could not bring herself to succumb to the evil forces of her miserable employee.

"Like hell I will, who knows where those filthy paws have been?"

"Oh I'm sure your underwear drawer was clean, otherwise you're in trouble." House smirked.

"Shut up and call for help. Get a ladder." _Or catch me._

"Yeah, I have Freddy the Fireman on speed-dial. Hold on." He pulled out from his 'cool' jacket, an invisible LG 5400, and placed it to his ear. "Freddy? Hi, this is Greggy from Princeton Plainsboro. My boss here is stuck in a tree in the courtyard, can you get down here ASAP?" He said mockingly, "Payment? Sure! No problem. Cuddy here is a babe, I'm sure she'll figure out a way to -"

"HOUSE! Quit your antics! This is all your fault!"

"My fault?" He flashed an innocent look. "Well maybe if your ego wasn't so inflated, you would have came to your senses and realized that my dare was ridiculous and wholly asinine and maybe- _just maybe_, you wouldn't be stuck in a tree in the middle of the day, and I would be sitting in the lounge, sipping Cameron's coffee and enjoying the monster truck rally!"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Alright fine, I can't help it. I have this uncontrollable urge to prove others wrong when it comes to my abilities. Happy? Now get me down before someone sees!"_  
Catch me, you idiot!_

House felt satisfied at his triumph, and gladly held out his right hand to her once more. At Cuddy's lack of enthusiasm, he resorted to coercion. " Uh-Oh! I think I see someone coming. (sarcastically) Oh and he's a hunk! That new cardiologist on the third floor?"

He began to scream, "Hey! Over here! Dr. Cuddy is stuck in a tree, and she desperately needs a charming British prince to rescue her!"

Cuddy shook her head in despair, knowing that she has no other option and that another descending glance would make her stomach go haywire.

"Fine! Fine!" She relented. Cuddy cautiously stooped down amid the two thick trunks embracing her thighs, just low enough to touch her fingertips to the cripple's, without revealing too much skin underneath her tweed skirt.

"Mmm.. my favorite pair of red undies today. Good choice."

"Gregory House, I swear to God, if you drop me, I will have your head," she muttered before taking a wild leap forward. Cuddy screwed her eyes closed, and prepared to wince at the pang of the cold concrete.

But nothing happened.

She opened her eyes, and found herself wrapped in the arms of a smiling House (her hand was intertwined with his). _Thank you for not letting my heart fall. _

"And I can't believe you didn't trust me!... So how many months of clinic hours do I get off for saving the boss? Two? C'mon, at least three weeks! Shouldn't a man be rewarded for sacrificing his Cuddy pancake for breakfast? Hmm... that actually sounds quite yummy," he continued to rant on as the pair walked off, side by side.

**El Fin.**

(** AN**: I actually got the idea for Take My Hand from some random LJ icon. Hehe. I absolutely love it though. Ideas?

**P.S.** I was rereading this chapter last night when I was making a few edits. But then I realized that if I added more fluff to it, the whole lovehate relationship between them wouldn't be the same as the one on the show, which of course, we all adore. And I wasn't quite sure about how Cuddy would be thinking (because she never gets enough screen time! grr) so I went on a whim, and decided to make her secretly want House to catch her. )


	3. H for Hurry

**26 Instances**

By Ladyemera1d

**Summary: **26 ( HouseCuddy ) mini-stories from A-Z. Cute, fluffy, lots of snarky banter.  
_He can't help but notice the worn out base on her heels as she rushes to save the world. _

**Disclaimer:** All **House MD** characters are properties of Fox. (House secretly belongs to me)**  
**

**Pairing:**** House/Cuddy- **( Wilson might join in the fun later )

**NOTE:** Thank you all for reviewing!**  
**

**Spoilers**: None.

**  
**

**08. H**urry

**Mood: ** Bittersweet

_No matter_ how many hours she worked past overtime, Dr. Lisa Cuddy's job was never finished.  
_No matter_ how many sleepless nights she spent checking every meticulous detail of the patients' files, the board's budgets, the staff's reviews, there always seemed to be more do to.

This is why she was always in a hurry, to get to her precious hospital;  
to protect her one and only baby.

**----------- **

**CUDDY** haphazardly parked in her familiar spot, and sprinted out of the vehicle as fast as she could in a new pair of leopard-print Jimmy Choo's.

_Seventeen minutes late. Damn it. There should really be a maximum age limit on those crossing guards._

As she reached the entrance door, a monsoon of plausible disasters that might have occurred in her absence rampaged through her mind - _God, I hope the coroner hasn't been called already_- because it was blatantly impossible for the hospital to function without her there to hold up the roof.

"OoOooo, mommy's in trouble!" House imitated in a childlike manner as he approached her from behind. "Tsk tsk." He wagged his finger. "Tardiness is soooo unacceptable."

"House, I don't have time for this. I'm in a hurry," she retorted in between rushed steps towards the elevator.

"Aw. You don't have time for little old me?" He pouted.

"I've got a whole year's worth of papers to file, most of them **yours**- Cameron found a drawer-full collecting dust in the back of your cabinet; emergency budget meeting in an hour; possible benefactors visiting at three- which means I have to run around like a maniac trying to hunt down unruly employees," she paused to dart an accusatory glare, "and beat them into wearing their lab coats!"  
She released a deep breath after stuffing three run-on sentences into one.

The two-floor ride up was surprisingly quiet. No snide comments about beating him with whips and chains. _Nothing_. At one point, Cuddy couldn't resist glancing over at her blue-eyed companion just to make sure he was still breathing. She found him staring intently at the flashing elevator buttons, enthralled in a sea of profound thoughts (about monster trucks and nude women, of course).

At the sound of a recognizable _ding_, Cuddy immediately sped off in the direction of her office, even faster than House when he's frantically rummaging for an unoccupied lounge forty seconds before the opening credits of General Hospital would start.

"You're right."

That got her to slow down. "What?"

"The maniac part doesn't suit you. Unless you were referring to a maniac dominatrix with whips and chains. Then it's perfect!"

She chuckled lightly, almost relieved to hear the voice of the pain-in-the-ass she was accustomed to. But nonetheless, not even the ingenious Gregory House could impede her never-ending quest to save her hospital (her world).

"P.S: Bribery is much more effective. Beating was _so _last month. P.P.S: Recently, I've been getting these insatiable cravings for red lollipops..."  
As she advanced closer and closer to her mahogany desk, her comfort zone, his words began to trail off until they were lost amidst the background chatters of patients and physicians alike.

**-----------**

**AT **the end of the day, Dr. Cuddy was exceptionally tired, _aching_, and her body demanded compensation, preferably a bubble bath, for her recurrent abuses. Just as she was about to sink into the comfort of her leather driver's seat, Lisa noticed something was missing.

_Oh crap. Left the keys in the office. _

She groaned, almost willing to camp out in the parking lot to avert another trip upstairs. But then she decided that a few wasted minutes was not worth the pain of a night spent inhaling gas fumes.

_If I hurry, I'll get it over with faster. _

The not-so-happy administrator was so fixated on her destination (as usual) that she nearly overlooked a certain notorious cripple, leering at her from not-so-far away.

"Yoo-hoo! Forgot something?" He tantalized, jingling a band of keys on the tip of his cane.

She rubbed her temple with the thumb and index, clearly distressed. "H_ouse_! Gimme those!"  
"Before I beat you with that cane!" She added as his grin merely widened.

"Na-uh uh..." He held the desired object above his head and beyond her reach. "I thought we already discussed this. Bribery, remember? Mmm.. two hours off clinic duty should do the trick."

"Let me get this straight, you expect me to exchange a two-hour clinic exemption for my own car keys- which you stole from my locked office?"

"Stealing?" He gasped mockingly. "I can't believe this is how you thank me for saving you from a _grueling_ ordeal up two _long_ flights of stairs. And you wonder why I never do nice things for people."

Cuddy sighed, exasperated. She was too fatigued to play tug of war with a recalcitrant toddler.

"Fine. Thank you _so_ much for your help. Now _hurry_ up and hand them over." She lifted her palm up, into which he gladly relinquished the trio of edged metal devices.

House watched as she shot him one final frown before unlocking the car door.  
A frown soiled by exhaustion.

"Cuddy." He called to her, in all seriousness, and waited for her to turn around.  
"Slow down." _For once. _

She smiled weakly: her tacit way of saying _I know, I know_.  
But he knew that some things would never change.

This was one of them.

**El Fin.**

( **AN: **I stayed up till 2:30 in the morning reading some brilliant Huddy fics that put mine to shame. They were _brilliant_. Now I am determined to improve! So I hope this one is better, the style is slightly tweaked to revolve more around Cuddy because she is simply amazing. Anyway, reviews equal love )


	4. F for Friday Nights

**26 Instances**

By Ladyemera1d

**Summary: **26 ( HouseCuddy ) mini-stories from A-Z. Cute, fluffy, lots of snarky banter.  
_What are House, Cuddy and Wilson doing on a Friday night?_

**Disclaimer:** All **House MD** characters are properties of Fox. (House secretly belongs to me)

**Pairing: House/Cuddy/Wilson**

**NOTE:** Thanks again for the great reviews, and to answer some of your questions/comments:

girlwithwingsoffire: I'd love to hear some of your ideas- I've been in need of inspiration lately. Whenever you have time, just send me a message. Thanks :)

HouseAddiction, addicted2coffee: Sorry I always forget to write down the urls of the fics I read, but there are so many good ones on livejournal. Thanks for reading.

Intro/Commendary: This one is a little different. Even though 'Huddy' is still implied, it's more of a generic fic exploring the House/Cuddy/Wilson triangle.

**SPOILERS:** Episode 2-22 _Forever_

**06. F**riday Nights

**Mood: **Moody

"**YOU'VE** reached the home of Dr. James Wilson. He is not available right now. Please leave a message after the beep."  
…  
"You've reached the home of Dr. James Wilson. He is not available rig-"  
…  
"You've reached-"

_Whoever said 'third time's the charm' must've been an idiot._ He stiffly rises from the onyx leather couch, allowing for the cordless phone to slip down the (bad) leg, like a kid down a rickety slide. He winces.

(On a perfectly picturesque Friday evening, most normal bachelors would be fraternizing with old friends or enjoying a special date. But if anything, there are two facts you should know about Gregory House. **One**: he is far from normal. **Two**: his only friend is spending this Friday night on a special date.)

_Dinner with the Devil herself._

"Now the question is, why is it so special?"  
_A consult? A favor? (Desperate Singles) support group?_ He empties his brain of all the synonyms it retained to avoid using the "d-word". After conjuring up a few more labels, the diagnostician surrenders to his growling stomach and retreats into the kitchen, completely disregarding the fact that he had just invested the past forty-five minutes of his Friday night in a staring contest with the phone dial.

* * *

**STARRY** vines of light and obligatory piano music paint the background. 

"So... is this a separation or...?" Her face scrunched with forced curiosity.

"Our lawyers have been hired, friends divvied up. Oddly she didn't fight me for House."  
She chuckles.

"At least there aren't kids involved. Just have each other to deal with."

"Hmm. If there had been kids, maybe we would have done more of that," he says wistfully.

Cuddy wavers before sputtering out an open invitation, "Do you want kids?"

Wilson looks into her eyes and catches a glisten- half filled with defined cobalt crystals; half with the remnants of a desiccated spring.

He shifts uncomfortably in the velvet seat. "Listen, is there anything in particular you wanted to... hospital business or...?"

"Catching up. I mean, you know... it's not like either one of us has anybody to run home to." It almost pains for her to smile.

"No." _He doesn't RSVP.. _

For the rest of the evening, both of them ends up using small talk as a buffer to avoid making real conversation, partially because neither of them remembered exactly how to.

As the waitress returns to collect the bill, Lisa gingerly dabs her lips with the pastel napkin- a tinge of basil and oregano still vibrant on her tongue. She watches, half-amused, as her counterpart struggles to dodge eye contact. A merciless itch at the aperture of the pharynx begs her to breach the layer of silence - "James..." (His ears perk up eagerly)- but it is still not enough to prompt her to re-mail the invite. "I think it's starting to rain."

* * *

** WILSON **slaps his sopping trench coat over the arm of the sofa and slumps onto the downy cushion without further thought. He rests his flaccid eyelids for a brief moment, generating pleasant visions of serenading stethoscopes and dancing cotton swabs, but the blithe reverie is soon shattered by a familiar monotone voice- 'You have **eleven** new messages'- ensued by a parade of red flashing lights.

He groans out loud. _There is only man on Earth who's idle enough to leave eleven messages in the duration of two hours._

"Jimmy boy! Steve McQueen's getting all worried. He keeps insisting that Wicked-Witch Cuddy is holding you captive in her lair so she could have her naughty ways with you. I would offer to send a rescue squad but you know, the whole Hercules deal isn't really my thing. Told him not to worry too much though- I know you can fight her off-"

His fist allays its bottled up aggravation onto the face of the erase button. Wilson sighs heavily, and inputs the ten digits he knows by heart.

"The number you are trying to reach is permanently disconnected. Please hang up and never dial again."

_Jealousy and walking sticks don't match._

* * *

**THE** hour hand lands precisely on channel eleven. He wallows in a dissonant stillness stirred by the low droning of the refrigerator. His (good) leg is perched on the edge of the stained coffee table, lying perpendicular to his dearest cane-shaped companion. 

The machine yells at him, "The number you are trying to rea-," and House _hates _being yelled at.

"Wilson. It wasn't," _(beat) _ "a date." There, he said it.

**El Fin.  
**

* * *

( **AN: **Sorry this chapter took so long. I tried something new-actually a couple of things. 1) This is the first one based on a past episode- the dinner dialog is taken from a transcript by courtesy of with a few minor chances; 2) Everything is done in present tense, which I usually hate doing; 3) And I finally put Wilson in, who I absolutely adore. But honestly, I'm not too thrilled about this chapter. It feels like I've tried to insert too much _stuff_ into in. What do you guys think? 

**Extra Commentary**: The one part I do love is the very last paragraph of the Cuddy-Wilson dinner because if you notice, it's the only scene where they are referred to as 'Lisa' and 'James'. I figured that first names would be more reflective of their friendship.

**P.S**: Still pissed off that we have to wait _three weeks!!!_ for the next new episode)


	5. S for Save a Life

**26 Instances**

By Ladyemera1d

**Summary: **26 ( HouseCuddy ) mini-stories from A-Z. Cute, fluffy, lots of snarky banter.  
_As he begins to raise his voice, she lowers hers to grant him one last chance. _

**Disclaimer:** All **House MD** characters are properties of Fox. (House secretly belongs to me)

**Pairing: House/Cuddy**

**NOTE:** Thanks for all the support! You guys are great. Side-note:

**1)** Sorry for any confusion in the last chapter. I just wanted to experiment a little bit but I guess it didn't work out too well- maybe I'll go and redo later on. But for the record, even though this is primarily a House/Cuddy fic, I will stick in Wilson from time to time, but that last one was more general. However, what I love most about the House and Cuddy relationship is their love-hate connection and strong UST, so I probably won't ever have them hook up or anything because I think that might be too OOC for now. (As much as we all want them to get together, I doubt the show's producers feel the same).

**2)** Mini Intro/Commentary to this story: Please don't remind me of the millions of other Huddy 'How to Save a Life' fanfictions, videos, etc. I know. Lol. But somehow, I couldn't help myself because that song is like the epitome of their relationship. This one is slightly different (I hope) in that I tried to incorporate the lyrics (with minor alterations) of the song into their dialog, thoughts and actions. And, the basis for the plot is a combination of MLC and Words and Deeds. Incidentally, the order of the events are reversed (you'll see what I mean). So, here goes:

**SPOILERS:** 3.10- _Merry Little Christmas_; 3.11- _Words and Deeds_

**19. S**ave a Life

**Mood: **Angsty

**THE **early January sun bellows out its last round of wakeup calls before sinking back into a dreamless slumber beneath the Cumulus ramparts. Then, without further delay, the stratum of shadows returns to mark its territory. But for that one fleeting moment, everything seems just right.

She watches him through the cracks scattered amongst the blinds of some sort of window into his wretched life. The room echoes an eerie quietness. Six-thirty is still too early for visitors and definitely too early for most 'patients' to secede from their naked-steamy-pill fantasies. He tucks himself into the nook sculpted by the wall and the adjacent glass panel, fiddling with an origami fortune teller. While engrossed in the spectacle before her, she clenches her teeth together between the lines of fear and blame, and begins to wonder why she came.

"How are you holding up?" Cuddy asks, leaning against the doorframe for support (or else she might just fall apart.)

House doesn't answer. Instead, he hops over to her, and extends out his newest toy to share. "Pick a number."

"You don't look so hot- do you want me to get-"

"For God's Sake, Cuddy. Please spare me your daily dose of guilt today, I'm in enough pain," he (almost) shouts. _Angry._ "Just pick a damn number!" His eyes are inflamed with _redblue _agony.

She's immediately taken back, even though she shouldn't be. She's speechless. _Hurt._

'Shit. I screwed up,' he always means to say, but the words somehow warp into: "And you should probably get your eyes checked. I'm always hot." He smirks- the best way, no, the only way he knows how to say 'sorry', and as always, she swallows it whole.

_Step one: _she says, "We need to talk." Her arms are folded across her chest, to protect her heart from the cold air lashing out from his tongue.

"There's nothing to talk about." He will not (cannot) look at her. Still _slightly angry._

As he begins to raise his voice, she lowers hers to grant him one last chance.

"House." Cuddy exercises her administrative voice, accompanied by the legendary menacing stare. "_Sit down. It's just a talk._" A backlog of _stress_pain_worry_ plug up the concave funnel linking her brows.

He glances at her from a distance, and he feels the sting of her guilt- a dangerously infected wound.

"Nah." (I'm not ready. Not ready. Not now. Not ever?) House pauses to dip into his bank of witty remarks, but comes up empty handed. Shrugging it off, he starts to limp away.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To puke my guts out in the toilet, where do you think? Care to join me? I know how throw up turns you on." His words are dry.

Cuddy doesn't reply because in truth, she has finally run out of things to say.

As he goes left, she stays right, and he begins to wonder where he went wrong. _He lost a friend._

* * *

**CUDDY **doesn't notice that an entire day has passed until the clock strikes midnight. 

Another case left unsolved. Another patient dies.

As she drapes her ivory cashmere scarf around her neck, she doesn't notice her coat is inside out. All she sees is a pair of _redblue_ eyes, crying out for mercy in the dungeon of agony and despair.

* * *

**SHE** lingers on his welcome mat for three minutes before she realizes something is wrong. 

Her House radar is broken.

Dropping her bags and files, Cuddy kicks down the already unlocked door.

Dark and empty.  
_Red_ and blue and _red_ under (very dim) flickers of light.

The aged fallen soldier lies in viscous goo that reeks of _vomit-blood-whiskey_- and even subtle hints of saline, crumpled, thrown away like yesterday's trash. Cuddy swallows hard, and his barren stare (almost) coaxes her to walk away.

Somewhere along the bitterness_, she lost a friend. _

"C-uddy.." His mouth is hollow and splintered just like the little white bottle discarded two inches below his foot.

"Shut up."

Propping his upper body against the nearest ottoman, she examines his dilated pupils (as a routine practice), and starts daubing his frayed skin with a saturated towel. Little by little, the white fibers fade into _red-crimson-scarlet_ hues. She grabs his wrist, and forcibly unveils the gushing canvas. It's muddled: unprofessional with random brushstrokes and etchings all over the map.

"How long have you been cutting?"

He stammers out gibberish.

"How **long**?" Angry. No, _furious._

"I don- don't remember."

"HOUSE! You're going to kill yourself! Stop being a stubborn-arrogant-jackass!" She briefly falters and _prays to God he hears her_. "For once in your life, think of someone besides yourself- you God-damn selfish bastard! Think of all the patients who will die because of your stupid addiction. Think of Wilson. Think of--." Her voice wanes. _Think of me. _

_Silence._  
"Please don't talk."  
Pain skims the surface of his voice.  
Cuddy obeys (because she doesn't know what else to do), and clutches onto his sliced hand, allowing the blood and sweat to metastasize into one deep burgundy mess.  
For the first time in her life, she is truly scared.  
Tears run rampant.  
_Silence._

She will never know it (and he will never admit it) but this is how she saves his life.

**El Fin.**

* * *

( **AN: **I had some difficulty formatting the structure of the story, and matching the facts. At first, I wanted Cuddy to find House in the Hospital Rehab ward but I wasn't sure if he actually lived there. And I wanted to write in more description on their expressions because there's just so much emotion running, but I didn't want to overdo it…and okay, I'm definitely going to work on it. Keep those comments coming- every bit helps. 

**P.S**: I absolutely loved Words and Deeds. Cuddy saves him _again_. She rocks. )


	6. B for Boys & Girls

**26 Instances**

By Ladyemera1d

**Summary: **26 ( HouseCuddy ) mini-stories from A-Z. Cute, fluffy, lots of snarky banter.

"…_when a boy likes a girl and he's too shy to tell her, he starts pulling her hair and throwing rocks at her..."_

**Disclaimer:** All **House MD** characters are properties of Fox. (House secretly belongs to me)

**Pairing: House/Cuddy/Wilson**

**NOTE:** Sorry for the 4 months wait (Long term writers block)- and honestly, I've never written anything past the 5th chapter so this is a huge accomplishment for me. Thanks for all the reviews and support!

**SPOILERS:** 3.17 Fetal Position (Sort of )

**Commentary**: This one is a bit different. I kept trying to imagine House and Cuddy as children, and I realized that they do act like children sometimes, constantly bickering and fighting so I thought depicting them as little elementary school kids wouldn't be so off character. I was inspired by the scene in Fetal Position when House chucks the airplane at Cuddy. (So adorable)

**02. B**oys & Girls

**Mood: **Cute

**THIRTEEN** Scooby-Doo stickers (half peeled), a train of alphabet blocks (knocked down), Jimmy's untied shoelaces (so yesterday).

His laser eyes scan the 15 x 20 quarter fastidiously, scanning- scanning- scan------

_Swish. swish. _

----until her brown pigtails detonate invisible high-tech neon signals. They dangle in front of him like miniature yarn dolls, screaming "pull me, pull me."

And frankly, self control has never been one of his strong suits.

"Ow!" She shoots up slightly, but not enough to scuff the 4foot5' statuette of an ideal class president: plastered smile, folded hands and all that jazz.

The boy observes thoughtfully. Everyone has a limit ( Jimmy's was at six bucks and a bag of Cheese Doodles ), and it is only a matter of time before he pinpoints hers, and until then, he will not be satisfied.

With dexterous piano fingers, he prods the test subject once again, only to receive a menacing glare in return. He picks up a newly sharpened pencil and scribbles: _Attempt #2: Female grows angry_, in his less-than legible scrawl.

Last chance- he holds his breath for two counts before tugging on the right strand- _hard_-, and he is a bit surprised to find shrieks of a livid hyena almost as enjoyable as Bach's French Suite in G Major.

She spins around, flames seething from her cute little nostrils. "Gregory House! If you pull my hair one more time, I'm gonna make you suffer through 500 years of chalkboard cleanup duty and you-

"Lisa!" The shrill voice of Mrs. Tritter sends the girl scrambling to resume model position. "You should know better than to talk in class."

Twenty three pairs of eager eyes stare. Cheeks flushed.

"I- I'm sorry," she whispers and manages to keep her head up (with the blissful clip of his puny body drowning in a sea of barbies and unicorns playing on repeat)

He can't help but grin like a dopey nine year old boy.

---

-( "**CINDERELLA**, dressed in yella, went upstairs to kiss a fella, made a mistake, kissed a snake, how many doctors did it take?...one, two three..." Her delicate braids bounce to the rhythm of each skip that imitates the steady pulse of a human heart. "twenty-five, twenty-six..." )-

"How does Cinderella not notice a giant green reptile trying to eat her lips? These 'girl' games are so stupid," he mutters, pressing his back against the concrete bricks of the graffiti festooned wall, and occasionally stealing glimpses at the rope dancing competition next door.

"Why, you jealous that they never invite you to play?" A gap toothed, wide eyed Jimmy Wilson snickers instinctively.

"Play with them? Pah! I would rather catch menopause than cooties." Greg casually leans his prized Dogwood twig (weapon of choice) against the toe of his left Adidas.

"Oh boy, have you been reading your mom's Reader's Digest again?"

He shrugs. "Gameboy ran out of batteries."

- ("C'mon Lisa, the bell is gonna to ring soon," the blonde one announces, tangling the long rope around her plump arms, causing Lisa to frown and twitch nervously (as her OCD stimuli automatically kick in).

"You guys should go ahead, I'll finish cleaning up," she volunteers with (fake) enthusiasm, and hastens to salvage a perfectly dandy jump-rope from her friend's appendages of death. )-

Surfacing a third of his face from behind the duo's secret hideout, he peers at her curiously as she coils the cord with immaculate ease and precision: exactly 7.25 inches per fold, four times over, and finally, a pair of overly symmetrical loops to secure the bundle.

Jimmy tries to sneak a peek over his shoulder, still baffled to why he had just spent an entire 45 minutes of his recess spying on Lisa Cuddy: a girl his best friend claims to loath more than broccoli and Mozart.

"Hey um...what are we doing here again?"

(beat)

"Good question." Without further hesitation, he pulls out a half-soiled pebble from his jeans pocket and flings it in her direction, scarcely grazing her upper buttocks.

- ( "Ow." Lisa consciously rubs the sore spot and glances askance left and right, but by then, the source of mischief has already disappeared from plain view. Yet, even short of any evidence, she has no doubt in her mind to the identity of her tormentor.) -

"You think she saw us?" (He is huffing with excitement at this point).

"Ahem.."

At the sound of the all too familiar cough, Greg slowly turns around to find himself greeted with a bloodcurdling scowl.

"I expected this from you, Gregory... but James? You too?" She looks almost hurt.

"I..I er..um ah..." the poor lad stammers incoherently, accentuating his discomfort with a fresh coat of red paint over his cheeks. (This future Boy Wonder can easily defeat a hundred squadrons of scary math monsters and ferocious spelling bees, but when it comes to damsels in distress, his superpowers inexplicably melt into a puddle of viscous goo).

"He made me!" Jimmy finally sputters out with a finger aimed at the smug assailant.

"Tattletale." He sticks out his tongue.

"Why do you keep pickin' on me?" Lisa has her hands folded across her chest, clearly frustrated. "You know, Stacy thinks that when a boy likes a girl and he's too shy to tell her, he starts pulling her hair and throwing rocks at her..."

"HAHAHA!" An earsplitting guffaw forces Jimmy to leap back in consternation. "_Everyone_ knows girls have cooties. And besides, who would like you? -you're not even pretty."

His prickly words jab at her ribs more than they probably should, and she momentarily pretends to ogle at the asphalt to hide the wet signs of multiple cardiac wounds clogging up her tear ducts. Luckily, Lisa has always recovered fast. Redirecting the hurt to rage, she releases the solid sphere from her palm (that's now clammy from holding on too long) into the air and then directly into the stomach of her preset target.

"Alas, I'm hit!" He stumbles backwards, clenching his abdomen in a thespian wave that's further aggrandized by the drumming of the late bell.

"You're nothing but a big mean bully!" She stomps off the playground with temporary triumph and a bewildered/mortified Jimmy trailing behind, who's too ashamed to even dart his troublemaking ex-best friend a pity glance.

Silence prolongs a simple stroll down the blacktop into a painfully arduous odyssey across the Sahara.

"Lisa.." he calls her name softly as she reaches for the handle of the side entrance. She pivots to face him, and for a second, Jimmy is dazzled by the light radiating from the sapphire specks ingrained in her eyes.

"_I_ think you're pretty." (He shuffles his feet awkwardly).

She can't help but beam like a guiltless nine year old girl.

---

( 'Come in from above. Instead of going straight in through her abdomen, go in through the veins in her neck. Transjugular hepatic biopsy. If the liver starts to bleed…'

House hears nothing except for the rustling of the white construction paper in his hands. Smooth, leveled wings, sharp nose and tail, and a camouflaged F-111 engine: his master piece.

'…back into her own veins.' The plane hits Cuddy, who glowers faintly, but somehow, she is not very impressed. He immediately looks away- up at the ceiling, down at the floor, wholly innocent.

When are you going to grow up?)

**El Fin. **

(**A/N:** I absolutely loved writing this one, and I think a lot of the circumstances parallel the canon ones ie: Wilson's limit when House admitted to borrowing increasing amounts of money since the day they met. And originally, I wasn't going to include a Wilson/Cuddy moment but their Act Your Age 'date' inspired me to write the ending. However, I really wanted to include the parallel to the Fetal Position scene but it didn't fit anywhere into the flow so I just stuck it on at the end- hope it's not too awkward, and please give any suggestions you might have with reviews! Thanks a bunch. )


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